Dear Wayne
by Little Bean
Summary: This is my take on Cal's story when his brother, Wayne, joined the army and left the shelter of their small town. It explains why he didn't write to his brother, and shows his struggles of loss and how his life was affected when Zachary Beaver comes to town. Enjoy!


Dear Wayne

I sat crouched at my small desk in my small room. With a blank mind. No words spilling out.

It seemed that always happened when I finally set to work. Pen and paper out, words always seemed to escape me. But this time I was determined to write. One sentence or two, at least.

Toby, my best friend in this beat-up old town, is always asking me why I don't write to my big brother Wayne in Vietnam, protecting our country as we speak. Well, I try, Toby. I really do try. But nothing comes to me when I begin to write the letter. After "Dear Wayne," there is nothing else. Toby complains I'm always distant, as if I'm in another world when we talk or hang out together. I'm not in another world when we talk. I'm not in another world - just writing a letter in my head. Today we secretly biked out of town for a while and chilled... Today Toby and I swam in the lake¦ Today Ferris served us one of his special specials for free today¦ But nothing seems like a good thing to write Wayne.

I'm Cal McKnight, the youngest of the McKnight family. I have two big brothers, Billy and Wayne, and an older sister, Kate. While Billy sits around being lazy, and Kate fights to get her driver's license, I try to write letters to Wayne, who is in the army fighting in Vietnam. Kate writes thousands of letters each day, while I try to think of one word to start. I haven't sent him one letter this year, and nil shows up in my mind. But that changed one day when a certain huge boy came to our town.

Zachary Beaver was his name. Old Z.B. Okay, so he's not exactly that old -(he's actually fifteen)- but he's older than me, and I classify that as old. Now, he's a boy weighing 600-something pounds. That has got to be an interesting topic in a letter. So, I began to write about what Toby and me - I mean I - were up too. We spied on top of the Bowl-O-Rama, watching and waiting. One incident, OK, Toby accidentally smashed the window with a rock, but everyone was unhurt.

My letters grew more frequent. I wrote to Wayne every day.

Except I didn't send them.

I was planning to send them all at once, so it would be a whole assortment of my adventures with Toby and Zachary Beaver. An info-dump when Wayne got them. I was in such a happy mood. Finally, I was writing like crazy! (I was a little like Kate, which creeped me out a little bit). A word-to-word description on the events of the day. I was the happiest in a long time. Then a tragedy messed up all my planning and writing.

Wayne. He was killed in war. Fighting bravely. Heroically. And all my letters pointless now. When I heard, I ran to my room and tore up every single letter into bits. Into confetti. No one, if Wayne couldn't, would read my words. My precious words to Wayne. He always wrote to me - now I had no way to repay his kindness. Tears threatened to show in my eyes for days, only my fierce pride keeping them back. Also, what stung me more, was the letter Toby wrote for me. He thought I didn't know anything about it, but of course I did. He wrote a letter for me, thinking he did a favor.

Instead he hurt me.

I knew where he was, when he ditched the funeral. That hurt me more, that he refused to come. He was my brother after all, not his. He was at Beaver's trailer, talking with him. I had owed him forty six dollars, and as a good friend, Toby never mentioned it. But, marching into the trailer, I burst through the door, called both of them names, ratted out on Zachary, and threw the money at Toby. Then I turned and walked away. I couldn't stand it. I never even sent him one of my letters, and he was gone, forever... I felt like my head was shattering. I grabbed my bike and pedaled fast to Gossimer Lake. I stayed there for a long time, crying my heart out, whispering my adventures out loud, as though Wayne could hear me. I thought he could, that I could still tell him my tales I wished I had sent him.

Later, I finally realized what Toby did for me was really a favor. His letter, after all, did say a lot of what I had been trying to say before Fat Albert came to town. When we got all of Wayne's stuff back, I saw a letter he wrote to me, a reply to Toby's letter he never sent.

Dear Cal,

Thanks for writing! I love your letter! It sounds as though you are having a great time. I'm so glad! Have fun for me! I wish I could be there with you, I've heard the weather is great in Antler this year. Wish Kate some luck on her license test, in her letters she complains about how you don't support her - do it for me. And from me. She doesn't believe in herself, but I know she can do it. C'mon, Cal, support her. When she gets her license, she will have to drive you all over town! That will be good for a laugh or two. Also, I want you to know that no matter what, I'm your big brother and I will always love you. Even if you don't think so. I am always your brother. Don't you forget it.

It's great to hear you and Toby are still going strong. He's a great kid, don't you forget that either. You may fall out at times, but everyone does. That's friendship for you. Something I heard here, that friendship isn't true if you're happy all the time. If you have a fight, and come back together, you know you have something special. That's what you and Toby have. I can tell it's special.

Now, Mom is getting worried for me here in war. Her letters tell me so. But I want you to know, I am never going to leave you. Even in death. But if I do die, I leave you my room and its contents. Don't worry about Kate, Billy, Mom, and dad this letter, though. I told them in letters to them. Billy gets my bike, though. You have your own, right? And you can always steal it when you grow out of yours!

Say hi to everyone for me also, I miss you all dearly. Especially you, Little Brother. You have been the light of my life for a long time. I love you lots-

Wayne

That was one of the worst and best letters in the world.

Part of me was sad and angry. Because that wasn't a reply to a letter from me, or for me. It was from Toby, and it technically was for Toby, too, then. But some other part of me, deep down, loved Wayne and appreciated Toby as a friend more than ever. In the evening of the day Zachary Beaver left in the dawn, I went to Scarlett's (another one of Toby's, and I guess my friend's) house. Otto, Toby's father, said that Toby was there at the moment. I brought Toby to the side, and thanked him for everything that he had done for me. From taking the blame, loaning me money, and finally, the letter. After my whispered monologue, I took a deep breath and hugged Toby very tightly (after I made sure no one could see me. That would be so embarrassing). I knew he was my friend no matter what, no matter where. Once again, Wayne, even in death, was teaching me things.

At the end of the day, I sat on top of the Bowl-O-Rama in the center of the roof, where no one could look or hear. I talked out loud about my day. To no one in particular. Toby joined me, but he didn't say a word. We sat there, me talking about great days with my best friend Toby.


End file.
